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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26912695">imma fuckin' princess</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oonaseckar/pseuds/oonaseckar'>oonaseckar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Style, Fairyland, Gen, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:28:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26912695</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oonaseckar/pseuds/oonaseckar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Diego is Cinderella (kind of).  Klaus is a fairy prince.</p><p>Kate Walsh is Grandma.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Diego Hargreeves &amp; Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title is Gerard Way.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On the 99th day Diego rested.  He'd done a lot of resting lately.  It was his little act of rebellion.</p><p>He rested in his tower room, lounging on his silver-canopied four-poster.  The tower was the fifth point of a fabled castle.  The castle stood on a green, green hill.  The green hill lay in faerie-land.</p><p>This was all his grandmother's fault. If only she hadn't told him about the bond.  If only he'd never wished for a fae lover..</p><p> </p><p>xxx</p><p> </p><p>Diego could describe to you how his grandmother cursed him with knowledge.  Should he?  If only the evil, inappropriate old crone had known when to let well alone.</p><p>And she left it to the last possible minute, at that: the night before his wedding.</p><p>What do you think of when you hear the word, grandmother?  White hair, wrinkles, wire-rimmed spectacles?  Cookies and benevolence?</p><p>Diego's Gran was pulled and lifted, she looked like an extra-surprised plastic dolly, utterly robotic.  Her titties stood higher than his shoulders, and her current boy-toy was younger than he was.  The woman was shameless. She was a hussy.</p><p>She was also part-fae.  It had been a legend in the family since before he was born.  Allusions to it generally came with hand gestures that suggested she was actually a bit touched in the head.  But there had been incidents enough, and he'd been taking enough notice in the past few years, for him to have doubts on that issue.  There had always been something eerie as well as cheap, blowsy and vulgar, about her.</p><p>That might have been the reason he felt a little spooked, as she helped him pin his boutonniére, check his old and new and borrowed and blue, on the night before he lost his status as an innocent young village bachelor.</p><p>He'd put on a pound or two in the last two weeks' run-up to the ceremony.  The evil old bitch grunted and tugged behind him, as she struggled to get his cummerbund done up, and made a couple of unflattering remarks about heifers and brood mares.  How Diego wished for his dear dead momma, sainted Grace, sweet and mild enough to be unbelievably the feisty old broad's daughter.</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She didn't let go when she was done.  Tobacco coarsened, her voice croaked out at him again, startlingly deep for a woman who was lithe as a whip, kept bony by a four-pack a day habit.  "There's a different way your life could go, you know, kid.  Another choice you could make."</p><p>His skin prickled at her words.  Did he have some intimation of her meaning?  Maybe he was more worried about her intent, the whim of her current mood.  It wasn't that she was <em>malignant</em>, precisely.  Diego was family, fortunately.  She'd have stuck a dagger in the back of anyone who crossed him, without a second thought.  But her moods and fancies were something even family were subject to.  And they were all fodder for her entertainment, of which she required much.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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